Date: Mon, 9 Aug 2004 08:15:01 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lance Kyle
Subject: Seaward Plantation war clouds 8
This story contains graphic but completely fictional
depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage
boys and/or girls, and even nekkid women show up now and
then If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to read
or download this, or if you are under 18, please go away.
Seaward Plantation
War clouds chapter eight
April rolled over into May and May into early June. Seaward
Plantation went about its routines of living: growing
crops, tending livestock, fishing, firearms practice in
stormy weather. No word came from Marcus or Bundit, but
daily life continued to swirl around the holes that each had
left on the island. The people of the island prepared for
war, which still seemed very far off.
Once, two weeks after the day on which Bundit and Marcus
disappeared, Appleby sailed back into Charleston for a
meeting of the South Carolina Militia, accompanied by Troy
and Hector. The two black men busied themselves procuring
what goods they could find in town, but as they had to
report back later, war and the hoarding that people do to
prepare for war had seriously depleted stocks of supplies
all over Charleston. Appleby meanwhile took himself to the
meeting hall.
The meeting, as it happened, was rather anticlimactic.
There were very few officers in attendance. The others were
preparing their troops for the defense of forts around the
harbor, or other sites such as Port Royal farther south--or
they were preparing to march or take trains to join the Army
of Northern Virginia that was being formed farther north
under the command of General Robert E. Lee. The few
officers who attended the meeting had local commands.
Appleby was asked, really in just a pro forma way, about the
defenses of Seaward. He stoutly asserted his readiness to
fight, and claimed that he had seen no enemy activity nor
any warships whatsoever--both true statements. The officers
at the meeting were asked to report from time to time to
local authorities, to the colonel in charge of harbor
defenses, but it was announced that there would be no more
regularly scheduled meetings of the militia. Appleby
learned that a wider war was definitely gathering, but it
seemed not to be centered on South Carolina at the moment.
Robert Ashley was at the meeting, resplendent in a naval
dress uniform. At the end of the meeting the officers were
invited by Robert to take a tour of the Charleston Harbor
defenses, which Appleby joined. Robert seemed oddly formal,
even careful, around Appleby during the whole meeting and
tour, but Appleby put it down to his preoccupations with war
planning. The officers walked in a group down to the harbor
area where they went directly to the best gunship that the
ragtag South Carolina naval forces could muster, the C.S.S.
Saluda. It was a sidewheel steamer with but a single cannon
mounted on a carousel on its forward deck, although that was
a formidable 32-pounder with a long barrel. The steamer had
housing for a small crew, a tall smokestack, a Confederate
flag flying from its stern. But Appleby could tell that it
was not new, and had been converted from whatever commercial
use it served in its former life. It was clear that
Charleston was counting on its shore batteries, and the now-
occupied Fort Sumter, for its defense against attack from
the sea. Any other naval forces the South could muster
would go into protecting trade with England and the
Continent that would help to pay for the war.
Commanding his small crew of uniformed sailors, none of whom
Appleby recognized, Robert Ashley took the Saluda out into
the harbor to tour the shore batteries, commenting on them
as they went. Once the tour was over and the gunboat back
at the pier, Appleby tried to engage Robert in conversation.
He would not have minded an invitation to Robert's private
vessel, the Swan, and hinted at such. But again, it was not
forthcoming. Pleading the press of business, Robert
politely declined.
Appleby returned to the Hesperus where he met Troy and
Hector, back early from a foray for supplies that had been
less than usually fruitful. They had, however, procured a
ship's bell that Appleby intended to mount down at the pier
so that it might be rung should visitors appear, hostile or
friendly. The three pushed off into the harbor and set sail
for Seaward. On the way they intercepted the mail boat.
Appleby was surprised, and would continue to be so
throughout the war, at the extent to which mail still
managed to cross enemy lines, albeit now much more
infrequently and with longer delays. And of course, he had
no way of knowing whether letters might have gotten through
at all. Today's haul of mail provided reassurance of
Appleby's long and careful preparation for war, his
cultivation of contacts in the North.... but no news of the
missing Marcus or Bundit.
The second week of June was memorable, and it began with
deceptive simplicity. Appleby was slowly awaking alone in
his bed one morning, going over his plans for the day. He
had taken the early watch the night before, and had arrived
back at the house in the dead of night when Cassius came to
relieve him. Enjoying the peaceful morning, he heard the
door from the verandah open and slam downstairs, and the
drumming of young feet on the stairs. There were soft steps
and whisperings in the hallway, and then finally soft steps
into his room. Appleby smiled at Frederick and Douglass,
both recently turned nine years old, as they stood in his
doorway peering in. The boys wore pants but no shirts.
Seeing that Appleby was awake, Frederick piped up: "Good
morning, Papa Mark!" Douglass bounded over to the bed with
a "Good morning!" himself. In an instant both boys were
sitting on the bed next to Appleby. "Mama isn't feeling
very well and she asked us to come find someone to give us a
bath," said Douglass, "And you were the first one we found
awake!" continued Frederick. "We put our clean clothes down
in the bath room, these are just what we wore over here," he
said, tugging at his trousers, "But we can take these off
for a bath," added Douglass, pulling his pants and underwear
off entirely and throwing them on the floor. Frederick
followed suit and in an instant both chocolate brown nine
year olds were kneeling on the bed by Appleby, their bodies
slim tubes of muscle showing the beginning of development in
chest, abdomen, arms, and legs... and with the African trait
of firm, high, rounded bottoms. Small penises above little
ballsacks dangled little more than an inch below their
groins.
"Want to get up and bathe us, Papa Mark?" asked Frederick,
whisking back the sheets and exposing Appleby's naked,
muscular flesh. Both boys grew silent for a moment as they
admired his tanned white body and its differences from the
darker flesh that was more common on Seaward. Appleby,
enjoying their youthful good spirits tremendously, smiled
and put a hand on each boy's neck, rubbing them gently. He
asked, "Why is your mother sick? Is it serious?"
"I don't think it's too bad, she's just throwing up," said
Douglass, absent-mindedly. He was looking at Appleby's
penis which lay between his legs, neither flaccid nor erect
but in a pleasant morning state of fullness. Appleby saw
that Frederick too was studying his organ as if it were some
natural phenomenon newly descended from the moon. Their
studies were interrupted by the sound of a door slamming
downstairs again and the drumming of feet on the stairs.
Their earlier pattern repeated itself, and soon footsteps
came to Appleby's door. It was Wat, likewise recently
turned nine, and also shirtless.
"Good morning, Papa Mark, hello Frederick, hello Douglass,"
he said. "Papa Mark, can you give me a bath? Mama isn't
feeling well this morning and asked me to come over here and
find a Papa who could help. She's throwing up!" he added,
with glee. Appleby nodded agreement, thinking for a moment
as to what the matter could be that both Portia and Helen
were ill; an epidemic was the last thing that Seaward needed
right now. His thoughts were interrupted by Wat, who upon
seeing everyone's state of nakedness had decided to join the
crowd. He pulled his trousers and underwear down, kicking
them away, and jumped onto the bed. His skin was simply
beautiful, a mix of gold and brown lightened by his quarter
amount of European ancestry. Of a smaller frame than
Frederick or Douglass, his body was nevertheless just as
promising in its muscular development. His head of jet
black loose curls contrasted beautifully with the twins'
tight tufts and whorls. Wat snuggled up close by Frederick,
and joined the boys in their surveillance of Appleby's naked
flesh.
"Papa, do all boys wake up with their things hard?" asked
Frederick. "I do," chimed in Douglass, while Wat nodded
vigorously.
"It's a penis, not a thing, Frederick, and many boys and men
do...although if they don't sometimes it doesn't necessarily
mean it's a problem," Appleby remarked.
"We're all nine now, Papa," said Wat. "When will we start
making.... semen, that's the word, right? I think maybe
Marcus could make some already." There was a heartbeat of
silence at the mention of Marcus's name, but the boys and
man soon returned to the moment.
"It's different for everybody, boys," he said. "Marcus was
a little young to be making real semen, if that's what he
was doing, at eleven. Some boys start years later than
that." Appleby was not the least bit embarrassed at this
conversation, as what his own parents would have called "the
facts of life" were quite openly known to all the youngsters
of Seaward as soon as they could ask about them. He should
not have been surprised at what naturally evolved from such
a discussion among four naked males, then, for Frederick
reached over to grasp Appleby's plump, reddish penis with
his slim brown hand and haul it up for public inspection.
In spite of himself, Appleby's organ sprang instantly to
life, growing rapidly before their very eyes. The boys all
said "ooooo" and giggled, looking excitedly at each other
and at Appleby. Torn for a moment between pleasure and the
natural moment on the one hand, and some Bostonian echoes of
prudery on the other, Appleby hesitated for a moment, and
then gave himself over to what was developing naturally.
"So you made Marcus with your semen, right? When you put
that in Mama?" asked Wat, studying it seriously. Appleby
gulped and nodded as Frederick's fist slowly, experimentally
began to slide up and down his organ, which reddened and
stiffened. "Me, too," whispered Douglass, who added his own
thin brown hand underneath his brother's, sliding up and
down the shaft together very slowly. "And Papa Bundit made
me the same way!" said Wat gleefully, at which Appleby
chuckled and again nodded. He was beginning to breathe more
heavily.
"Mama says either Papa Pan or Papa Bacchus made Douglass and
me, but it doesn't really matter since they're twins," said
Frederick, a look of concentration on his beautiful young
brown face, trumpet lips parted, as he and Douglass slowly
increased the speed and pressure of their pumping. "Let me,
too," said Wat, and stuck a golden brown hand in atop
Frederick's hand. Three young hands now slid up and down
Appleby's rigid cock as three slim, squirming young bodies
twisted in together for a better view, draping themselves
over Appleby's legs and belly.
"Are you going to make some sperm soon?" asked Wat.
"I expect so, with all of you doing that," said Appleby in a
whisper. There was a moment of silence and then he felt the
familiar turning inside of him as body and spirit gathered
together. "Here it comes!" he said hoarsely and then pushed
his hips up as his penis erupted in sprays of semen.
Douglass, startled, pulled his hand away and rocked back on
his heels, but Frederick and Wat, laughing, kept pumping
intently. "Slow down, slow down!" said the white man
urgently, and the boys instantly complied, slow long slides
milking the last of Appleby's white spunk up out of his rod
and down the side, coating two brown hands. "Alright,
stop!" he said when it was over. All three boys were dotted
with white, while Frederick's and Wat's hands were streaked
with it. All three played with the semen, stirring and
rubbing the fluid with their fingers. Brave again, Douglass
dipped a little of it with his finger and brought it to his
tongue, tasting it uncertainly...but that was more than the
other two were willing to try.
"Was that nice, Papa?" asked Frederick.
"It was very nice, thank you boys. But now," said Appleby,
rising up, "time to bathe all of you." All four of them,
the boys still giggling and smearing themselves with the
white ejaculate, made their way down to the bath room where
they washed themselves in stages as Appleby kept the pump
and the stove going. He had sent the boys on their way and
was just drying himself off when Apple and Rain came in,
leading Moss by the hand. They stared, frankly appraising
the naked white man standing before them, but nobody felt
any shame.
"Mama asked us to come over and bathe here," said Apple.
"She's not feeling well," added Rain. Moss piped up, "She
threw up!" Now seriously alarmed at the prospect of an
epidemic of disease with news of Athena's indisposition,
Appleby changed the water for the girls and, as they plunged
naked into the tub, ran up the stairs to get dressed.
Emerging a few minutes later, tearing at a roll for
breakfast, he made his way first to Portia's cabin. He
found Cass and Juno emerging from it, Juno muttering "Uh-
huh! Uh-HUH!" and Cass with a gleam in her eye.
"Mama Cass! Mama Juno! What is the matter? Is everyone
ill all over the island?"
The two matriarchs stopped and regarded Appleby sternly,
with folded arms, then looked at each other, then back at
their master, who wilted somewhat under the scrutiny.
"Throw a party for tonight, Master Mark," said Cass, "We'll
give a full report then."
"Yes, go cook something for once, we have our hands full!"
said Juno, adding cryptically, "Menfolk!" and the two
marched off with a sense of purpose for Helen's cabin.
Fearful of entering Portia's cabin, Appleby decided that
following orders was the best plan for him. Finding Cassius
and Priam on the path as he went to the kitchen, he told the
news of the three illnesses and of Cass and Juno's strange
"order."
"Well, I'll be," said Priam. "Women, I will never
understand them. How can we have a party if these three are
sick?" He shook his head with incomprehension.
"Papa Priam, if that's what Cass and Juno said to do, are
you going to argue with them?" asked Cassius. Priam's eyes
grew large and he shook his head, muttering something under
his breath. Both he and Cassius turned from their plans to
help Appleby. Not totally incompetent in the kitchen, but
not as experienced as the women, the three men, aided by
Pan, Bacchus, Troy, and Hector when he had rested from his
watch, worked on preparing a feast all day. The children
were entrusted with watching down by the pier, and they took
their charge very seriously, Apple commandeering the pistol
while Wat claimed control of the ship's bell.
Evening rolled around and Cass came by to check on
preparations. She nodded her approval, then offered the
opinion that the watch on the pier could be foregone for a
couple of hours that evening. "But what of Athena, Helen,
and Portia?" Appleby asked. "Yes, will they be better
soon?" queried Cassius.
"Oh, it may take a while for it to all work itself out,"
said Cass sardonically, then turned on her heel and left.
The men looked at one another, shrugged, and continued about
their business.
As evening drew on, tables were set up in the hay barn and
laden with the food the men had prepared. Burned sides of
roasts were placed down on the platters, underdone
vegetables were run back into the pan, and lumpy gravy was
served forth with defiance. Wine, at least, was in
abundance--it was hardly the least of stores that Appleby
had made sure to hoard in the cellar of the main house. The
group gathered, and at the last the three invalids were led
out by Cass and Juno. The men all inquired after their
health while the children looked on in mild worry.
"I hope you will recover soon," said Appleby.
"In about seven months or so," said Athena.
"So long?! Are you very ill? Are...." Appleby stopped
short. At least he could do simple arithmetic even if it
were hard to see what was right in front of his face. "No!"
he cried. The other men's faces, one by one, were slowly
lit by the rising sun of comprehension.
"But... but surely you're not ALL THREE pregnant!" said
Appleby, in wonder. Athena, Helen, and Portia all nodded,
barely suppressing smiles. The children whooped in glee at
the prospects of new playmates, heedless of the implications
of bringing forth new life during a perilous war, when the
very survival of the island was at stake. The adults simply
stood, looking at one another with expressions of wonder and
mirth. On nobody's face was woe--but to have all three with
child at once! It was unheard of.
"Well..." and Appleby seized a wine glass. "To the new
mothers!"
"Thank you, but we will stick with water," said Portia. The
men hurried to supply them with that, and glasses were
raised all around. And then there were hugs of
congratulations. And then..... then came the inevitable.
"Oh!" said Hector. "Who.... who are the fathers, do you
suppose?" There was no sense of jealousy or possessiveness
in anyone's heart, just natural curiosity.
"We have been discussing that," said Helen, "and it is very
strange." Athena and Portia nodded. "I've been thinking
back, and I think it most likely that it is.... Master Mark,
or Bundit." Appleby searched his memory, did some quick
addition of weeks, and nodded in agreement, a mixture of
hope, joy, fear, and wonder roiling in his breast.
"I believe it must be Hector," said Portia, and Hector's
dark skin darkened further with a tremendous blush even as
he hung his head and grinned hugely, "or Bundit." Now
everyone looked thoughtful indeed at the coincidence of two
mentions of Bundit. Athena shook her head, smiling. She
got right to the point. "Cassius or Bundit," she said,
smiling. Cassius's jaw dropped, and then he smiled widely.
"You don't mean.... I had heard.... do you mean that on his
second to last night here, Bundit impregnated all three of
you!?" said Appleby. The women looked at one another and
Helen. shrugged. She spoke: "It seems as if it is possible.
It's hard to pinpoint exactly. Of course, for each of us
there are other possibilities," she said, looking
meaningfully at Appleby, who now took his turn to blush
scarlet. "I suppose we will find out in, oh, seven months
or a shade less."
The men became suddenly solicitous, offering the women the
softest seats, fetching them the least botched delicacies
from the table--especially the men named as candidates for
biological fatherhood. The feast began with great joy and
anticipation. Everyone felt as if the stakes in keeping
Seaward, high as they had been, had just become higher.
Bacchus, in fact, excused himself early to go take watch
down at the pier, and equipped himself with a shotgun on the
way to add to the pistol and ship's bell that were kept down
at the shore. Priam said that he would come to relieve him
in the night.
Appleby made a point of sitting next to Athena at one point
during the evening. "Athena," he began, "Bundit... a
possible father to all three babies.... what does this mean?
Is this the universe playing a joke on us? Giving us a
gift?"
She smiled and placed her hand on his. "I don't know,
master. But I think the universe wants a balance, and when
it takes away, it gives. We may get Bundit back, and as
I've said, I think for sure that Marcus will come back. But
in some sense, what is lost is returned to us. Things work
like that, master," she said, smiling radiantly. But then
she turned thoughtful. "Of course, it might also work that
way, to create a balance.... if the universe were about to
take from us as well." Appleby nodded, and turned those
thoughts over in his heart.
The week that had begun so auspiciously moved on through the
routines of everyday life, albeit everyday life in a state
of heightened vigilance. Toward the end of the week, an
event occurred that was ultimately to have huge implications
for life--and death--on Seaward Plantation. The good people
did not know it at the time, but it was in fact the coming
of war to the island.
First Hector and then Cassius were keeping watch down at the
pier that night. The day had been otherwise uneventful,
full of hard work tending crops and livestock. The lifeboat
on the eastern side of the island had been taken out for
fishing, and brought back a reasonably good catch in its
nets. Everyone except those on watch had retired for the
night to rest from a day of good, hard labor.
Appleby slept by himself that night but was startled awake
some time around two in the morning. Momentarily
disoriented, he had a sensation that the air was buzzing
with unfamiliar sounds, perhaps of restless spirits. As he
rose to full consciousness he realized what it was: the
ship's bell from the pier was ringing persistently. Appleby
leaped from the bed to throw on clothes and shoes. Then the
sound of a distant shotgun, from the direction of the pier,
turned his blood to ice. Still tugging on his trousers, he
ran to the two nearest doors on the second floor to knock
loudly. But Hector and the twins were already dressing
frantically. All four men ran from the house to the storage
barn where the firearms were kept. There they found Troy
and Priam arming themselves. Another shotgun blast rang
out, louder now--was it because they were outside, or was an
approaching enemy closer?
By the time each man had a carbine and a pistol, the entire
community was roused. Children were told sternly to stay
indoors while the women likewise armed themselves, fully
determined to defend the island. Nevertheless, the children
followed, and nobody had the heart to turn them back again.
It was a determined but frightened group of warriors that
ran across lawn and meadow to plunge through the line of
trees and swarm out around and onto the pier. Cassius let
the bell's rope go as he saw them coming and set his shotgun
against the post. Cassius raised a spyglass to his eye. He
took one more look west, toward land, and then handed the
instrument to Appleby as he pointed out toward the waves.
Appleby scanned the water back and forth; it was a night
with gathering clouds, so only intermittent, weak moonlight
aided his search, but then he found it: a small craft, like
a large rowboat, no mast or sail. There appeared to be a
few people in it and they seemed to be rowing. Something
light seemed to move back and forth just above the boat, but
it was hard to tell. Appleby handed the glass to Priam who
looked, then handed it to Troy.
"How long has it been there?" he asked Cassius.
"Just a few minutes, master, but I think it is coming this
way."
"Anything else out there, any more like it?" he asked.
"Not that I can tell," said Cassius.
"Nor I," added Troy, and Priam agreed.
"Should we load the cannon?" Appleby asked. Priam
hesitated.
"No, master, I don't think so. It is a small target for
cannon anyway. But we should be ready with the small arms,
and take cover on the Hesperus and Harmony. Perhaps the
women could take up positions behind the stone walls, by the
cannon, as a backup for us if.... if it comes to that," said
Priam. It seemed like a wise course of action, and
everybody took their places. The commotion of the last few
minutes suddenly gave way to quiet waiting. The faint
sounds of oars moving in their locks came from over the
waves. It was still a little too far to hail anyone, so the
people of Seaward watched and waited. Priam and Troy passed
the spyglass back and forth between them, trying to make out
the thing that was slowly, slowly coming toward them.
A few minutes passed and Priam whispered excitedly, "It's a
white cloth.... that thing moving back and forth above them,
a white cloth." A few more minutes passed. "A white... a
white flag. I make out maybe three or four men, and it does
seem to be a large rowboat." His whispers were now
interrupted by a shout from across the water. "Don't
shoot!" came the distant sound. "Friends!" If anything,
the people of Seaward clutched their weapons even tighter at
that, training the carbines on the target as well as they
could in the dark; if they were to be attacked, they fully
expected treachery.
More minutes passed and the sound of oars splashing and
turning in their locks could be heard. "Don't shoot!" came
once more. Troy had the spyglass to his eye. "Four men,
definitely," he said. Another minute and suddenly he
stiffened. "Wha...!" he exclaimed, adjusted the focus of
the spyglass...and then handed it to Priam. "Second man
from the stern," he whispered urgently. Priam looked
intently and then he, too, jerked with surprise. He turned
to hand the glass to Troy, who nodded after a moment,
smiling. Then Priam looked at Appleby. "Bundit," he said.
Military training and decorum gave way for a moment.
Appleby came leaping over to seize the glass again and
confirm the fact for himself at the same time that Portia,
who had heard the name clearly despite her position back
behind a stone wall next to a cannon, came running around
the side of the wall toward the pier. "By Jove, I think
it's true!" said Appleby in astonishment. He leaped onto
the cabin roof of the Hesperus and shouted out. "Mark
Appleby here. Who is there?" And from across the water
came a familiar voice that could only just now be heard:
"Bundit!"
"Lower your weapons, everybody, but keep them ready!" said
Appleby, unable to believe his eyes and ears. Portia was
next to him, still armed but clutching Appleby's arm with
her free hand. The next few minutes crept by with agonizing
slowness, but closer and closer came the boat in the dark.
"Someone light a torch," said Priam, and Pan produced one in
a flash, securing it to the far end of the pier as high as
he could. Its light spread a weak circle out over the
waters as the sound of the boat came closer and closer. The
spyglass to his eye, Appleby gasped. "Not only Bundit,
but..... I know these others!" he said, "although I don't
believe any of the rest of you do."
"Do you see Marcus!" said Portia, urgently.
"No, I do not." Appleby could feel her sink a bit, but she
rallied. It was a marvelous thing if Bundit were returning,
and he might have news of their son. Appleby continued
scanning the sea near and far and could see nothing but the
approaching boat. "Do you see anything else?" he asked,
handing the glass to Priam. Priam scanned the area for a
long minute, then shook his head. Appleby then called for
more torches, feeling more confident that it was not some
sort of ruse or ambush. In a moment the pier was ablaze
with light, and in only a few more minutes the boat came
within the circle of light on the waters. Then restraint
gave way and people began hailing Bundit, who waved the
white flag again and called back. Soon the boat bumped
against the far end of the pier. Willing hands crowded
together to pull Bundit out of the boat, to embrace him and
then move him back down the pier. There were shouts and
tears all along the pier as he made his way down, and
finally came to Appleby and Portia.
First they fell on him, embracing him, and then Portia could
not restrain herself: "Marcus, Bundit, do you know...." but
words failed her. Bundit looked at her in confusion.
"Marcus?" he looked around the crowd. "What do you mean?
Where is he?" Portia covered her face and stifled a sob;
she had hoped from time to time over the last months that
her son was safe because he was with Bundit, and then she
had hoped in the last few minutes that he was near at hand.
Both hopes now dashed, she struggled to be strong. Appleby
spoke in a hushed voice: "He stowed away on the Hesperus
the day we took you to Charleston. He left us a note saying
he intended to follow you. He has been gone all this time.
We had hoped....." Bundit looked appalled and covered his
mouth with his hand. He shook his head vigorously.
Appleby turned to the three slaves who had come with Bundit,
now nearing him as they came up behind on the pier. "My
friends, everyone!" he shouted, "these are people from the
Ashley Plantation. Samuel, Hammond, and Aaron." He pointed
out each of his old friends to the people around, and they
greeted the three warmly. Turning to Bundit he continued,
loudly enough so all could hear, "I suppose you have been at
Ashley Plantation, then, Bundit?"
"Yes," said Bundit, and it was then that a drawn, worried
look could be glimpsed on his face. "Yes, in slavery," he
said. The crowd gasped and murmured, and Appleby blanched
dead white for a moment as his heart skipped a beat. When
he recovered, he noticed that his own hands were closed in
tight fists and that a fury was building in him like steam
in a kettle. "And you have seen no sign of Marcus there?"
Bundit shook his head. Turning to the three newcomers he
said, "Did your master have anywhere at Ashley a young boy
of eleven, light-skinned, curly brown hair?" The three
shook their heads, looking toward each other for
confirmation.
"I can see that there is much news here, much to learn. I
suggest we all gather in the hay barn; can someone run ahead
to fetch food and drink for these four?" Pan and Bacchus
shouted yes and were off like a flash. "Cassius, I am
sorry, we will give you all the news later, but someone
needs to stay on watch here. Especially now." Cassius
nodded vigorously and waved his weapon. "I will stay with
Papa Cassius, too," said Rain, stepping forward to stand by
her father. Hector, close by, smiled and handed her his
carbine and a leather bag of linen cartridges. She took it
confidently; it was clear that, young as she was, she meant
to use it if need be, and that she knew how to do so.
"Alright," said Appleby, and the whole group began to move
back toward the buildings as Cassius and Rain began
extinguishing the torches at the pier and, now extra
vigilant, turned their attention again to the sea.
The group made their way by torchlight back up across the
meadow and lawn to the hay barn. Pan and Bacchus had
brought bread, fruit, vegetables, and cold meats from the
kitchen. Everyone joined in to welcome the arrivals, who
ate ravenously. A few of the Seaward people joined in.
Nobody pestered the newcomers to learn their stories until
they were finished.
Finally, Bundit pushed his plate back and looked wearily at
Appleby, who sat next to him. "It is good to be back," he
said, and then simply burst into tears. Appleby enfolded
him in his arms, rocking him gently until he was able to
speak again. He whispered to Bundit, "Tell us what you want
to tell us, leave the rest until you feel able." Bundit
nodded, and took a few minutes to compose himself. Then he
sat up and looked around at the group. He began:
"I walked down the harbor looking for large ships or
launches from the larger ships that were anchored in the
harbor. The first pier did not look promising so I stepped
quickly to the next pier, and there I saw the Ashley vessel,
the Swan, that had just tied up at the pier. Robert
Ashley," and here a spasm of anger flashed over his face at
the mere mention of the name. "Robert was just stepping off
the boat and he saw me. He greeted me; we had met before,
of course, at the militia exercises. He asked me what I was
up to, and I told him. He was full of good humor, but of
course I should have seen through it. He immediately
invited me on board and offered me a drink to speed me on my
way. I thought it could do no harm, so I went."
"And no sign of Marcus all this time?" asked Appleby.
"No, no sign.... but it all happened very quickly. You
know, I walked with you to the end of the pier, and then it
was but a short walk to two piers away. Marcus may have
emerged by then but saw it was not safe yet to show himself.
Once I was onto the Swan, all was lost. Either he would not
have seen me, or did see me but did not feel--thank God!--
that he could follow me. At any rate, I went on board the
Swan. Robert invited me into the cabin. He had three
servants with him, but he asked them to remain on the deck.
I did not recognize any of them. There in the cabin he
turned his back to me and prepared two glasses of wine. He
drank one, I drank the other. Even before I put the glass
down I knew something was wrong, I felt dizzy, and then very
quickly everything went black.
"When I woke up, I was tied up in the cabin of the Swan and
I could tell we were under way. Robert came up to me, with
such a hunger in his eyes! I have never seen such raw
desire in a person. He told me we were on our way to my new
home and that I would find it a good life, a better life
than Seaward. I said nothing. He smiled and went back on
deck.
"I will spare you many of the details. When we landed I was
led, still bound, to a building, a sort of barn." Appleby
nodded; he knew it well, it was Robert's play pen for
excesses of all sorts. "There I was untied but kept locked
in a small room with a bed. I was given food and drink.
Robert came to see me there. He was alone, and had himself
locked into the room with me, but he had servants outside
the door. He did not try to force himself on me... at
first. He pulled me to him, sliding his arms around me,
under my shirt, down the back of my trousers. He and I....
we, Master Mark... have had such times together, you know."
Appleby nodded. "But this was completely different. I
could not respond at all, and he knew it. That he had
kidnapped me, was trying to force me into slavery.... I
could not stand the thought. I knew if I fought back it
would go very badly for me, but I could not bring myself to
feel anything. He sensed it, and stopped trying, that time
at least.
"For several weeks after that, one scene after another was
staged in that barn. I was led in, bound but by soft,
silken cloths, stripped naked and made to watch. Huge,
powerful black men grappled naked together.... or were made
to have sex with beautiful young women..... or with younger
men and boys. Or boys with boys, or women with women, his
imagination seemed to know no bounds.
"Once, a powerful, tall black man with a huge penis was led
into the room. His skin was heavily oiled, slick as butter
and shining in the lamplight. Four boys of about thirteen,
also very dark and completely covered in oil, were let into
the room as well. I was tied to a chair set close by the
bed, while Robert sat on a chair on the other side. Robert
announced 'the game': the man was to catch each boy and
have sex with him in a two hour period. If he succeeded, he
would win one hundred dollars. Any boy who escaped during
the two hours would win one hundred dollars. Think what one
hundred dollars would mean to a slave...." Bundit trailed
off, looking into the middle distance. Then he returned to
his subject.
"The man ended up catching all four of them. They writhed
and squirmed in his grasp as he took them to the bed, and
they cried out as he penetrated them, using his massive
weight to hold them down on the bed. I had to look away
but... it was shameful, but my own member would rise during
those times. But as soon as Robert came around the bed
toward me, it would wilt. I could not be... that way with
him any longer."
"In the last few weeks, Robert forced himself on me a couple
of times, but of course that made me even more unable to be
as he wanted me to be. A few times he whipped me, with a
leather paddle that would sting like fire but not cut the
skin. In the last week, he forced my three friends here....
Samuel, Aaron, and Hammond, to do the same with me, but they
merely simulated it as much as they could, and when they
could not help it they were very gentle and breathed
apologies in my ear."
At that point Hammond spoke up. "We wuz sorry, masta, we
knew it wuz wrong. Masta Robert, he made us. He'd a'wupped
us. He gettin' stranger an' stranger, masta! His wife, she
afraid, too. All dem servants, t'ings he do.... we couldn'
stan' it no mo' masta, had to get out. We heard a war had
come. Aaron here, he said you'd take us." Aaron nodded
vigorously, looking hard at Appleby for confirmation.
Appleby stretched out his hand to take Aaron's, smiling a
welcome and nodding.
"Yesterday during the day, Samuel slipped into the barn and
said we were escaping," said Bundit. He left a side door to
the barn unlocked, and as soon as it was dark I made my
escape, down to the river. Robert was engaged in some other
fantasy in a room in the main house, drunk as a lord and
sunk in debauchery, so it was easy to make our escape. We
took the big rowboat they had there and made our way in the
dark. My friends picked that night because it was so dark.
I think I have never been so frightened slipping out through
the harbor, trying to avoid other vessels, rowing as quietly
and as quickly as we could past the guns on shore and in the
fort. You know the rest. No alarm was raised, and I think
nobody has any idea where we went."
"Did any of you tell anybody else of your plans?" asked
Appleby, urgently.
"I.... I asked Rodney if he wanted to come, but he said no,
he got a nice woman there," said Aaron. "But he won' tell
nobody, and nobody will think that he knows," he added.
Appleby was worried. "I hope you are right. People can be
forced to talk, but perhaps this will go undetected." The
party was quiet for a while, thinking about events. Appleby
spoke again.
"Well, my Seaward friends, what do you think? It seems as
if we have three new additions to our family. Is this
alright with you?" Everyone agreed, although it would
strain the resources of Seaward. But if it came to that, it
would also add to their little army. Appleby smiled and
chuckled.
"Bundit has returned and three more added. Oh, but
Bundit..... perhaps I should say six more." The Siamese man
looked surprised. Appleby looked at the women. Helen spoke
up. "Bundit.... Portia, Athena, and I are all with child."
Bundit's face broke into a pleased smile. So she continued,
"...and you might be the father in each case. You might
not, but it is possible." A look of astonishment then came
over Bundit's beautiful features as he struggled to
understand the implications.
Appleby broke into the moment. "Alright, I think we need to
move the rowboat to the east side of the island while it is
still dark. Pan, Bacchus, will you do that? Haul it well
up onto the beach and cover it with branches. My friends,"
he said, addressing Samuel, Aaron, and Hammond, "let us find
room for you in the main house." The three looked flatly
astonished; the idea of housing slaves in the master's
quarters was unheard of. "Tomorrow we will begin teaching
you about Seaward. You will learn to read and write and to
speak correctly. Seaward... Seaward is not Ashley
Plantation," he said, in response to their gaping looks of
astonishment. "No," others murmured, many of them smiling,
"No, it is not."
"Tonight has brought us many strange events and strange
news. I think.... I am sure we have not heard the last of
this matter. We will begin to plan and prepare anew
tomorrow. For tonight, let's all get what rest we can."
Everyone agreed, and dispersed in the night to their beds,
to dream of what the morning might bring.